


An Unforgiving Moon

by lunasaltator (orphan_account)



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 20:55:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3583662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lunasaltator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Koujaku has yet to visit his mother's grave and the guilt of killing her is eating him alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unforgiving Moon

Aoba woke up to a cold bed and moonlight forcing its way through the slits in the blinds. He grappled for his Coil to check the time before letting a sigh escape his body and forcing himself out of bed to look for his lover. The first couple of nights that this had happened, he was only mildly worried, thinking it would pass and he could feel secure waking up in the strong arms he had grown so accustomed to. This was night eight and it was time for an explanation. Padding across the house in his shorts and a t-shirt, he made his way to the deck overlooking the small garden. When the door slid open like a whisper, he could smell the smoke from a cigarette he knew was delicately perched between two slender fingers. As he followed the familiar scent, he could see the moon's unforgiving rays fall upon Koujaku's body, making the red of his trademark kimono seem sinister. He quietly sauntered over to the edge of the deck and let his bare feet dangle over the edge, noticing that he had kept that small distance between them that reminded him of when they simply friends. Aoba's eyes fell onto the ashtray that had several crinkled and broken cigarettes, taking the brunt of their assailant's emotions. Koujaku was the type to limit himself to four or five cigarettes a day, usually after a meal or sex, but over the past week he had managed to go through three packs and was likely finishing a fourth at that moment. His red eyes were unfocused, looking out into the shadows of the yard and lazily taking a puff occasionally, neglecting to ash it like he normally would. He was startled when a weight fell into his lap, but found himself reflexively reaching out to find the blue hair he was so used to caressing in his loving way with careful and practiced hands.

"What's wrong?" Koujaku looked down into Aoba's worried face, finally breaking the trance that had taken hold of him. He had always been proud of his work, but what he had done with Aoba's hair felt like a masterpiece he did not deserve to create. Nonetheless, he always found himself coveting this precious head of hair in a way only he could.

"I should be asking you that." Aoba replied with a frown. He felt like they were back in Platinum Jail again, with Koujaku's face, body, and voice all the same, but the person within a complete stranger. When he saw the slightest tinge of guilt mixed among the sadness in those intimidating red eyes, he kept staring, hoping it would prod some kind of truth out of them. When all he heard was mutters of denial, he could feel his face contort in anger, knitting two blue eyebrows together tight enough to make a diamond from coal.

"Don't look at me like that. I can't stand when you're mad at me." A sigh crept out of Koujaku's tattooed chest as he moved his scarred hand from stroking Aoba's hair to brushing his knuckles against the pale cheek, hoping the sign of affection would be enough to ease the worry.

"Then tell me what's wrong." The gentle touch had failed. Aoba's eyes were unwavering, daring him to try to weasel his way out of talking about what was on his mind. He dared, again muttered that nothing was wrong, but turned his head away both to avoid those beautiful, imploring eyes and to take another deep pull from the nearly depleted cigarette that was attached to a fragile stick of ash.

The weight on Koujaku's thighs disappeared and he saw Aoba sitting on his knees. Suddenly, he felt two cold hands on the side of his face and a chilled forehead touching his own. Leaning forward, Aoba gave him no choice but to look him in the face. There was no escaping now.

"Koujaku! You've barely slept all week and you're smoking a lot more than usual. Even your customers have noticed how worn out you are lately." Aoba began with anger in his voice, but his eyes showed only worry. A pair of thumbs shadowed under mesmerizing crimson eyes, emphasizing how deep the darkness under his eyes had become. The worry leaked through his voice, making it waver slightly. "Please, Koujaku. I love you, so please tell me what's wrong."

Koujaku had never been able to resist that sweet voice, especially when it said his name. He grabbed onto the hands clutching his face and brought them down to his legs as he adjusted to sit cross-legged across from Aoba. He looked down at the pairs of hands connecting them, and took in a shaky breath. "I always have a hard time this time of year. You used Scrap on me, and now we're together, so I thought it would be easier now, but I was wrong." Aoba squeezed Koujaku's hands reassuringly, encouraging him to continue. "My mother would've been able to keep laughing and smiling. They could all be alive if I hadn't slaughtered everyone there. And the full moon is mocking me again, like it did that night, telling me it saw every sin I committed that night. It's seen the blood on my hands, and now it's come out to make me feel guilty all over again. I don't even know where her body is, and I should've been there to pick up her bones and hold onto her ashes."

"You weren't in control," Aoba replied, " You were forced to get those tattoos and Ryuuhou manipulated you." His words were lost as the far-away, terrified look crept into those crimson eyes again, threatening to close him off from the world again.

A lone tear trailed down his cheek and over his tattoo. "I can sometimes see the blood and hear those screams. It's been coming back in my dreams, now." The tears began to pour more and Aoba carefully wrapped his arms around Koujaku's shoulders and his legs around the other's waist, settling into the dip made between denim-clad knees. A secure feeling began to tingle over Koujaku's body, reminding him that his reason for living was here in front of him, worried about him. He began to weep.  
Aoba rubbed circles on Koujaku's back and cooed soft affirmations into his dark hair. He held onto the scarred body, which was overtaken by shaking sobs and overflowing tears. While Koujaku would never break his cool facade in public, Aoba was glad to see this side of his beloved, knowing he would be the only one to know it because of the trust between the two of them. He could feel masculine arms grasp at him tightly and heard the normally even and cool voice cry out like a child. It was the first time Koujaku had cried since the night he received those daming tattoos.

The sobs began to dissipate into sniffling, and finally Koujaku pulled away slightly to look at Aoba's face. His eyes were swollen and his cheeks tear-stained, but he was still as handsome as ever. He smiled and planted a chaste kiss between the tufts of blue hair. His smiled turned to a frown as he exclaimed, "Aoba! You're freezing! Why didn't you say anything?"

Aoba chuckled, "I guess I didn't notice." Koujaku placed his hands on Aoba's bottom to help stabilize them both as he stood up. "Wait!" the younger man said, "I can walk on my own!"

"You really think you can separate from me after you climb onto me like this?" Aoba blushed, hiding his face in Koujaku's shoulder. He succumbed to his fate and let himself be carried inside and laid down on the bed. His face and neck were peppered with light kisses. Aoba found himself gazing at Koujaku's face above him, its features highlighted by the filtered moonlight. The strong jaw, dark tattoo, lightly-shining scar, and fiery eyes were all beautiful in surreal way. "Koujaku, you look so beautiful in this light."

"Silly Aoba," Koujaku chuckled and kissed him, "You'll always be the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes on." Sleep came easily to both of them, their bodies wrapped together until the moon was replaced by the sun in the sky.

\---

"Koujaku! I'm home!" Aoba excitedly called out from the entryway. He shoved his enormous boots and puffy jacket off as quickly as he could manage and ran into the living room to his boyfriend's sleeping form sprawled across the couch. He wanted so badly to curl up next to him and take a nap as well, but opted instead to bend over and bestow a light kiss on the forehead before walking into the kitchen to cook dinner. Anticipation had decided to take up residence in his brain, making multi-tasking impossible. Dinner would have to be simple, but the suave hairdresser claimed he loved everything Aoba cooked almost as much as he loved him.

As the curry finished cooking, a pair of arms wound around the cook's waist and a head rested on his shoulder, nuzzling itself into the spot where his neck and shoulder met. He smiled and said that dinner would be ready soon, only blushing a little when he felt a light kiss on his neck and a gentle squeeze to his torso in reply. The sleepy Koujaku shuffled over to the table and plopped into his seat before placing his head on the table to wait patiently for the food, watching every move his favorite person made. He paid special attention to his shapely butt, wanting so badly to reach out and grab it, but his tiredness killed the urge and he knew he could always do as he pleased later. Disappointment was clear on his face when Aoba turned around to bring the plates and silverware to the table, but it was misinterpreted as grogginess and was paid no mind.

"Did you end up working today?" Aoba asked.

"I did some cleaning, but I didn't open up to customers. I just wasn't feeling it today." Koujaku's voice flowed like liquid caramel from his mouth and eased Aoba's previous tension.

"The girls must've been disappointed, but you need to care for yourself, first."

"How was your day?"

"Average; the kids made a huge mess this morning that I had to clean up and then I ran deliveries the rest of the day."

"Those brats never learn."

Aoba grunted in agreement, and then took a steady breath.

"I have to tell you something."

Koujaku was fully awake now. A miniscule sliver of terror lodged itself in his gut and he anticipated the worst.

"I've been doing some investigating and I think I found your mother's grave."

His stomach dropped. He had yet to pay his respects, keeping away out of guilt and the potential that the power of the tattoos might engulf him again. Both of them had stopped eating and the air was thick with feelings that were neither conflicting nor complementary.

"After tomorrow, I have the next three days off work if you wanted to go." Aoba suggested, "I mean, we don't have to go if you don't want. Or you can go by yourself." When Koujaku's face remained blank, his heart sank through the floor. "Sorry, this wasn't a good idea." He started to leave, claiming he was no longer hungry, when he felt a warm hand engulf his own.

Koujaku smiled and tenderly kissed the pale hand, "Have I ever told you how much I love you?" His question was met with a blush. "If you're with me, I think I can do it."

"Okay. I'll buy the tickets tomorrow morning."

\---

The two of them spent the first day on the mainland walking around town, the one clad in red guiding the one perpetually in blue. They somehow managed to find a nice hotel room at the last minute, turning in early due to exhaustion caused by the too-early ferry ride. The second day was going to be much different.

An iron archway loomed over the two young men, intimidating and somber. The headstones lay beyond that point, and one of them might be where Koujaku's mother had been laid to rest. He wondered who had been there to pick the bones out of the ashes and place them in the urn or if she had even been cremated at all. Unwelcome sunshine warmed his body as he willed himself to begin taking steps towards their destination. He felt Aoba's arm rest on his back, a reminder that someone was there to support him. In the emotional storm raging inside of him, he still had something sturdy to keep himself alive. When the first few steps were taken, the path seemed automatic. Koujaku was sure he had never been in this cemetery, but his body seemed to know where the intended grave was.

The character's matched his mother's name. He paid silent respects, falling silently to his knees and clasping his hands together so tightly the scarred knuckles turned white. He failed to notice his companion had done the same, praying to ancestors made too young. When Koujaku lowered his head to the ground and Aoba heard obvious sniffling, he broke his pose and turned to console his lover. Slow tears turned into sobbing as he wailed, "Mom, I'm sorry," and asked for the posthumous forgiveness. He rattled off names Aoba had never heard; the names of the yakuza members he killed. His weeping lasted well into the late afternoon, only stopping when his body had been rid of all moisture. The two of them set out to go back to the hotel in silence, save for Koujaku's sniffles.

Later that night, Aoba asks Koujaku what the time is. A silent tear falls down his cheek as he looks at his Coil, and the brown-eyed sweetheart rushes to his side, ready to comfort him again.

"Koujaku, is something wrong?"

"Today would've been her birthday."

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction. Please leave any constructive comments! :)


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